Anne Would Be Proud

Wednesday evening, during the eye of the storm of 2010, I opened my front door to this sad sight:

It's my favorite tree, the one by my front porch. It's the perfect size and has the prettiest red leaves. It's one of those trees that make you feel like you're in an English garden on a perfect Spring day, with bare feet and a dog-eared Jane Austen novel. Like little white butterflies are always flitting around it, chasing the dandelion snow. Looking at it you can almost smell the honeysuckle and if you squint you can see Anne of Green Gables peeking around from behind. Come to my house in the spring and you'll see what I mean.

Anyway, I looked out and saw the tree like this...all bent over and looking like she was about to break. As if the weight of all the world was on her shoulders, and she was fighting valiantly just to keep from cracking underneath it. My neck hurt just looking at it.

I told Ava to run up and ask Eric, who had just come in from clearing the driveway, to come down and knock the snow off the tree. He and his Grinch's heart yelled down, "No way!". So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I kicked off my slippers and put on his giant size 15 boots, threw on a coat, grabbed a broom and went out.



Apparently when he heard that I was out knocking snow off the tree, Eric thought it was so funny he told Ava to sneak down and take a picture of me doing it:

Sure, I'm wearing a nightgown over capri pajama pants. Sure, I'm wearing size 15 boots with no socks. Sure, snow is falling down right on my head and down the back of my neck because I didn't fully think through the laws of gravity before banging a broom against a tree laden with snow.

But I saved a tree's life that day. As the snow fell from her limbs, it was like she was shaking off years of burden. As she stood straighter, inch by inch, I could hear the dryad deep within her thanking me in whispers.

See? Doesn't she look more carefree?


Cabin fever does funny things to people.